


Social Expectations

by erikaehm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaehm/pseuds/erikaehm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her insides twisted with disgust and she turned her head away, lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t surprised it was happening, only that it had taken so long. Beacon Hills was a small place, and the moment she’d stepped into her job she’d been expecting the racism to hit her full force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this, Maggy!

Social Expectations

 

Derek is a werewolf – a fact his girlfriend is very much aware of, thank you. Angelique had known what Derek Hale was long before he’d even known she _existed_. When she put it that way, it sounded a bit stalkerish. Her lips quirked to the side in amusement, and he glanced down at her.

 

His eyes were bright with humor as he ducked for a quick kiss, stealing her breath away with just the slightest touch. She felt foolish, falling so far for a man who was more beast than human six days out of seven.

 

She found that it didn’t really matter; there was no going back now.

 

Angelique is a witch – a fact her boyfriend is very much aware of, thank you. Derek had known what Angelique Morrell was long before she’d ever uttered the words _magic_. When he put it that way, it sounded a bit creepy; even to him. He bit back his smile and ducked his head for a second breath-stealing kiss, just a brush of his lips against hers as he softly asked her what she wanted.

 

Summer in Beacon Hills. Ice cream seemed like the perfect idea for their first date of the season – and they deserved it.

 

They’d missed the quiet change of spring to summer – the way the flowers slowly blossom, and the subtle changes of the wind, until everything around them is bursting with life – thanks to supernatural problems.  There’d been a _witch_ witch, not the Deaton or Morrell kind, and she’d had a taste for virgin sacrifices.

 

Needless to say, they’d spent the quiet of shifting seasons tearing through the woods and trying not to let Erica, Boyd, Stiles or Isaac get killed. Apparently the box of condoms – almost empty – Melissa McCall had found in Scott’s room the year prior had, ah. Well it’d actually been being used. With Allison.

 

Angelique smiled to herself, letting her nails toy with the soft hairs on the back of his neck. He rumbled softly back at her, a quiet noise in the back of his throat meant for her ears and her ears alone. “Mm. Neapolitan.” She decided, finally dropping her hand and stepping away from him. His arm snaked around her middle, pulling her back into his side.

 

These were the moments she loved the most. The quiet moments where it was just them, where Derek wasn’t trying to be _Alpha_ or more recently, mentor to his broken, mangled pack. These were the times when Derek wasn’t a man ruled by fire or hate, where his anchor fell and he let himself _be_.

 

( _these were the moments that made her fall in love with him_ )

 

“Neapolitan girl, huh?” He sounded amused as they stepped a little closer to the counter, still three people away from ordering.

 

“Mm. What are you going to get?” She peered at the more exotic flavors – cookie dough ice cream was a special time ice cream, reserved for soothing frayed nerves and teary eyes. Almost never hers, mostly the pack girls.

 

Derek snorted, and his eyes lit up with the smoky darkness that set an ache deep in her belly. “Chocolate.” He purred back, and she _had_ to laugh, voice rich with humor as she punched him softly in the ribs.

 

( _moments like these are her favorite, but she knows and always has known, that there’s almost always going to be something that goes wrong – she’s not disappointed, not even on her quiet summer day)_

If she could hear them talking with her feeble human ears, they must have been sounded like they were _shouting_ to Derek.

 

“Such a nice looking boy, so handsome.”

 

“Shame he’s with a girl like that.”

 

“That’s exactly what’s wrong with society these days –“

 

“Coming in and stealing our boys, no wonder the crime rate is so high.”

 

“Families like that that don’t work out.”

 

“Well can you blame the fathers? Why would they want to stay?”

 

“You know they’re only looking to have a good time.”

 

“Then _those_ girls and have babies.”

 

“Home wreckers.”

 

“Can’t blame them, it’s in their _blood_.”

 

Soft sound of giggling; dry humor, laced gently with venom. Angelique let her eyes dart to the table, not really surprised at what she saw. Three older women, watching them with open disdain. Well, they were watching her with open disdain. They looked at Derek with a mixture of pity and disgust, picking at their boring vanilla ice cream and mango sorbets.

 

The one with the floppy pink hat met her eyes, lips twisting into a scowl on a word Angelique had grown to hate in a predominantly white, French speaking community.

 

Her insides twisted with disgust and she turned her head away, lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t surprised it was happening, only that it had taken so long. Beacon Hills was a small place, and the moment she’d stepped into her job she’d been expecting the racism to hit her full force.

 

An image from childhood shot into her mind, clear as if it had happened yesterday. She’d been six and she remembered her mother’s lashed clumped wet with tears, face flush with shame and anger as they bustled through the aisle of the grocery store. They hadn’t bought their milk there that day, had gone without until she’d whined enough they walked to the local grocery store.

 

She cast a glance up at Derek, heart skipping a beat when his gaze caught hers.

 

 _Red_.

 

He looked more awestruck than she did, lips parted with mortified surprise as his eyes bled. There was anger there, and hurt, and she muttered an apology before really thinking about it.

 

The snarl that erupted had the entire place falling silent, curious glances being tossed their way.

 

Her mind raced, then settled. “Derek, let’s go. You need to calm down.” Her hand caught his wrist, grip firm as she reeled backwards, tugging him towards the door. “Now.”

 

“No.” His jaw set into a stubborn line, swollen a bit where his fangs were struggling to escape. “ _No._ I told you I was taking you out for ice cream, and I’m going to get you your fucking ice cream.”

 

“I don’t _want_ it.” And she didn’t. Her stomach felt heavy, tight, appetite gone. She didn’t want to be where she wasn’t wanted, and ice cream wasn’t worth it. Not at all.

 

He was going to argue. She could see it in the way he was leaning towards the counter, the glare he was tossing around. Then, his nostrils flared.

 

( _he could smell the one thing he never wanted to, not from her – shame, thick and heavy, potent enough it made his wolf scream inside his head, ache for revenge_ )

 

She was ushered into the car and they were speeding out of the lot before she could fully get her bearings. “I’m sorry about that.” Her tone was level, even. A little bit detached. “Thank you for not freaking out.”

 

His hands clenched the wheel, foot pushing harder onto the gas. “Don’t apologize because a group of bigoted old hags can’t – that they.”

 

“Derek.” She smoothed a hand over his knee, looking out the window. “I understand that that was weird for you, uncomfortable. It was for me too. But it’s not something new.” She listened to his sharp intake of breath, sucked between tightly clamped teeth. “It’s okay. Can you just drop me off at home?”

 

He knew what she was asking. She wanted to be dropped off alone. He wanted to argue, didn’t, and sat idling in her driveway until she disappeared inside the house.

 

He got to the apartment in record time, said nothing to Isaac as he handed the pup his keys, then headed into the woods. He had to run off his anger before he did something that he would regret.

 

***

 

“Thanks Stiles.” Derek muttered to the teen, cautiously taking the overflowing brown paper bag. “You didn’t have to.” He added because he was Derek, and accepting help from anyone rubbed him the wrong way.

 

The teen rolled his eyes and playfully nudged a fist into Derek’s shoulder. “Dude, I know. Trust. But I wanted to. You got a good thing going on, don’t let anyone ruin in.” He grinned, quick and fleeting. “I ah, may have also told my dad. Someone may or may not have gotten two speeding and a parking ticket in the last week.”

 

Derek snorted. “I don’t think you’re using the law to the best of your abilities, Stiles.”

 

“Hey man, you forget I’m dating Boyd.” There was a softness, an understanding to Stiles’ voice that made Derek’s insides crawl. “Not easy being an interracial gay couple, trust. Now go. Be schmoopy and romantic. Also, I’m telling _everyone_.” He laughed, walking backwards towards the Jeep. “Have fun! Use condoms!”

 

Derek flipped the kid off as he slid gracefully into his own car, smirking when Stiles smacked his head off the door of his Jeep.

 

He hadn’t seen Angelique in a week, and it felt weird to knock on her door when the keys she’d given him felt so heavy in his pocket. She answered after his second knock, looking as immaculate as always. Apologetic, too. “Sorry. Deaton needed my help.” She didn’t elaborate on what he needed help with. Derek didn’t ask.

 

They kept their noses out of each other’s supernatural business unless they needed help.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

She eyed the bag in his arms even as she backed away to let him in.

 

He didn’t answer her unspoken question as he toed his shoes off and headed straight for the kitchen to unpack. Cream, vanilla beans, sugar. He lined everything neatly on the counter before stepping back, tossing her a _come hither_ look.

 

“What’s all this?” She asked, picking up the vanilla extract as Derek settled against her back, nose nudging her neck.

 

“I thought since our ice cream date was ruined, we’d make our own.” She felt him shrug. “Vanilla seemed easiest, even if it’s boring.”

 

Angelique’s stomach squirmed with warmth and she couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “I have strawberries in the fridge.”

 

Derek’s shoulders shook with his laughter, and she knew then that they would be okay. They were okay.


End file.
